Star Wars: My Little Princess
by Hawki
Summary: Oneshot: Rey felt out of place. The Resistance, Yavin IV, this whole damned adventure thing. Strangely enough, Captain Solo was the only point of familiarity.


**My Little Princess**

"Look, Princess-"

"Call me princess one more time and I'll feed you to a rancor!"

"Alright, alright, don't get in a fix, your worshipfulness."

Rey had seen many things in her life. Sand, criminals, sand, mercenaries, more sand, starship wrecks, and the blue, cloudless sky. And sand. But never in all her life had she seen such a withering gaze from a fellow human. The type of gaze that would make plants shrivel up and die. And unlike on Jakku, plants grew in abundance here on Yavin IV. So as General Organa cast her withering gaze on Captain Solo, she was glad that the captain wasn't a plant. Because he might have up and died right then.

"Well, I'll be seeing you around then."

"Take your time."

Rey watched as Organa returned her gaze to the tactical display of the Yavin system. And shifted it to Captain Solo as he began walking in her general direction, wearing the swagger that only smugglers could bring to the galaxy. One that he somehow managed to maintain even after being dressed down by General Leia "I'm a bantha" Organa."

"Hey kid."

And she watched him walk out of the command centre. Walking like he belonged, yet didn't. As if he could leave any time, but chose not to.

"I hate sand," she blurted out.

Solo glanced at her. So did some of the tactical officers.

"I mean, um…" She trailed off. She had no idea where that came from. Yeah, she hated sand, but that wasn't very relevant right now.

"I need some air."

That, at least, struck her as being a phrase that sane people spoke. So she headed out of the command centre to the exterior of Yavin Base. Unlike Solo, she didn't belong, and she knew it. But that didn't mean that she couldn't walk 'without purpose,' as Poe had caught it.

 _Am I even sane?_

She didn't know. In the space of less than a week, she'd ended up talking to a droid, been shot at by stormtroopers, rescued a Resistance pilot from a Star Destroyer, nearly been killed a dozen times, accepted that the old stories of Jedi and Sith were real, and was now standing at the main base of the Resistance. A base that, in the old stories, was a hideout. A secret from the galaxy. Now, Yavin wasn't a secret at all, but a statement of power. That it could fight the First Order on its own terms. Fight for decades, as the case was, across the length and breadth of the galaxy.

 _And Jakku._ She kept walking, approaching the lake that bordered the base. _Thanks for that._

She kicked a stone into the water, watching as the ripples spread. She'd never seen so much water. She'd heard tales of entire worlds composed of water. Of worlds where it never stopped raining. Some she'd believed, some she hadn't, but…She knelt down, letting the life-giving liquid run through her fingers. This feeling. This was real.

"You okay kid?"

She spun around, looking up at the captain. His grizzled, wizened face looked back at her.

"Kid?"

 _I like the water much more than sand. Trust me, you don't want to live on Jakku. The sand's everywhere. It gets into everything, no matter what you do. It's nothing like water._

"I'm fine," she said.

Solo smirked. "You're a poor liar kid."

Rey felt small. Smaller than usual anyway. Solo was taller than her, but that wasn't it. Poe, Finn – they belonged in this world. Even Finn had the advantage of being a soldier? But her?

 _I'm a scavenger who hates sand, who grew up on a world of sand, and right now I'm drowning instead._

"Why doesn't Organa like being called princess?" she asked.

Right now, anything was better than the silence. And sand. And drowning. And a thousand other things that the galaxy had heaped on her.

"Oh, that," Solo said, and he looked aside to an X-Wing. He had 'the look,' as Rey had called it. The same look he'd had when he'd told her about the Force. Of the old Empire. Of good friends long gone.

"It's a long story."

"I like stories," she blurted out. Solo looked at her. "I mean-"

"Alderaan," Solo mused. He walked over to the water. "She was princess of a world called Alderaan." He glanced at Rey. "Ever heard of it?"

She shook her head.

"Not surprised." He picked up a stone and tossed it across the lake. It skimmed three times. "Alderaan doesn't even exist anymore. Leia figures that she shouldn't be called princess of a planet that doesn't exist." He skimmed another stone. "Besides, that's a time long gone."

"Like the Jedi," Rey added. "And the Sith."

"Sure."

Rey bit her lip – she liked Solo. There was something…familiar, she supposed, about him? Something welcoming? Or was it the stories he had told her on the _Falcon_? The validation that there was a world beyond Jakku? That there had once been a world where the Force wasn't just a myth.

"And maybe it's because of her mother."

Rey raised an eyebrow.

"Her mother was a princess," Solo continued. "She didn't lose her world, but…" He sighed. "You could say that she lost a lot more."

"Sounds like you know a lot about the general."

"Course I do kid. She's my wife."

Rey felt like she was falling. Only her staff stopped her from stumbling.

"Kid?"

And she did stumble. Awkwardly.

"You okay?"

"You're married?" She blurted out. "But…but you fought! She threatened you! You…you gave her wisecracks!"

"…your point?"

"But…married people…don't…"

"Kid, you know nothing about marriage, do you?"

"I…" Rey stopped. "No."

 _Don't know anything about anything._

She didn't belong here, she told herself. Not on this world. Not in this outfit. She wasn't happy on Jakku, but at least she knew what was what there. And why did Solo have to keep calling her 'kid?'

"Cheer up kid," Solo said, patting her on the shoulder. "You'll fit in. Heck, I knew a kid just like you once. Farm boy. Wide and beady eyed, but great when you were in a pinch. He…" He trailed off. "Well, that was a long time ago. And a long story."

Rey avoided his gaze. Farm boys. More stories. She wasn't in the mood for stories right now. Stories were about heroes and villains. Not kids plucked off desert planets that got into fights with evil empires before finding their way to the base of the good guys. Stories required the protagonist to know what the hell they were actually doing.

"Anyway," Solo said. "I better check on Leia. Or General Organa if she's still moody."

"Sure," Rey murmured. She glanced at an X-Wing. Wondering what it would be like to fly it. Whether it was as spectacular as Poe described. "You do that."

She didn't watch him leave. Didn't see him hesitate, as if about to ask something. As if wanting to say something that he couldn't bring himself to. Didn't see any of it.

And most certainly didn't feel like royalty at all.


End file.
